


You Are My Aftermath

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tries to convince Derek to make out with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the awesome @Leela_cat. She's just such an awesome beta/writer. Thank you, bb.

After they rescue Derek from Kate, Stiles starts spending increasingly longer hours at Derek's loft. There is no reason for that. He still hangs out with Scott. They still save the day. And everything is normal in Beacon Hills. Just this one thing has changed. 

Well, maybe more than that. Derek likes to make sure Stiles is alright after their encounters with the supernatural. He touches Stiles constantly, patting his chest, grabbing his arm, sliding a palm over his neck. It’s rather... distracting.

Derek still doesn't talk much, though. He mostly just reads. The guy doesn't even have a TV. 

Stiles wonders if Derek even knows about Game of Thrones. Or Person of Interest. Or even Buffy for crying out loud. 

He also wonders what Derek was up to in New York with Laura. He likes to imagine Derek as a firefighter trainee. Derek would be good at saving people. Hunting things isn't really his forte. 

Right now, Derek is sitting on his couch, reading about Machiavelli. Stiles is pretty sure Derek reads so Peter can't mock him about all the things he doesn't know. Maybe Peter has said something about Machiavellianism, and Derek had no idea what he was talking about. Peter is an asshole who likes to make other people feel small. Stiles has first hand knowledge of that. 

Peter is also a psychopath, but he's Derek's only living relative who stayed around. Stiles can almost understand why Derek hasn't ended Peter's miserable life already. 

Stiles is sitting on the table in front of the huge window, swinging his legs back and forth because he knows it annoys Derek. He doesn't particularly want to annoy him, but attention is always nice, even if it's negative. "Do you want to make out?" Stiles asks for the hell of it. 

There's this tension between them, always has been. It's been driving Stiles mad these past few weeks because he's spending so much time with Derek. Making out might take that tension away. 

Derek puts his book down. "Are you insane?"

"Yes. That's beside the point."

Something funny happens to Derek’s face. He looks like he ate a lemon, swallowed it and now it's stuck in his throat. "Why would I ever want to make out with you?"

That is not a nice thing to say. "Rude."

"Well, excuse me, but you're the one saying insane things."

Stiles grins to hide how nervous he feels, then sits on his hands so he won't flail around. "I'm saying a reasonable thing. I don't see anyone else here, and I feel horny. _You_ keep touching me."

"You're seventeen. Breakfast makes you horny."

Stiles groans. "Forget it." He hops off the table and stalks towards the door, leaving before Derek can say anything else to hurt him. Rejection is a bitch. He should've learned by now not to expect nice things. 

The next time he hangs out at Derek's loft (two weeks later because he was too embarrassed to face him), it's Wednesday and they've just survived the monster of the week. 

They are covered in goo, and Stiles wonders why he's the only one still here. Scott and Kira left two minutes ago. He should go, too. It's ten already, and his dad hates it when he stays out too late on school nights. 

Yet, here he is, standing in Derek's hall, pondering if he should toe off his shoes. 

Derek walks by him, pulling off his own shirt. "Go home, Stiles."

Stiles doesn't listen. Instead, he follows Derek to the bathroom and sits on the toilet seat while Derek showers. He can see Derek's silhouette. 

They don't say anything, but when Derek reaches for his towel, Stiles hands it to him. Derek steps out of the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist. His chest is _glistening_. Stiles hates him. 

Derek gives him an extra towel before leaving the bathroom. 

Stiles takes a shower, soaps himself thoroughly, and then leans his forehead against the cold tiles for a long long while. He sucks. He's kissed a few wonderful people. He got to second base with Malia. He has no idea what he's doing right now. 

Derek should help him. 

Once he's done, he emerges from the bathroom, wearing only the towel and a determined face. 

"Derek?" 

He's lying on the bed, his sweatpants riding low on his hips, and the light t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. Stiles doesn't need an imagination because Derek doesn't mind lurking around without his shirt on. Derek is a wolf. He runs hot, and decency matters very little to him. 

"Is there anything here between us?" Stiles asks, and it's the last time he's going to talk about this. If Derek decides to ignore the way he touches Stiles, scents him, protects him, throws people away from him, then Stiles won't push it. Derek has his reasons. He must have. Otherwise it's just Stiles interpreting everything the wrong way. Maybe he's not that smart after all. 

"Stiles." It sounds like liquid frustration. 

"Derek." He grabs the front of his towel, holding on tight. He feels so exposed. At least he's toned now, not so soft, not so childish. He feels more at home in his skin. "Please?" It's a mere whisper.

Derek inhales, closing his eyes. Then after a short while, he gets up and comes to stand in front of Stiles. They are the same height, but Derek is fully clothed, a predator who could tear Stiles' throat open in a heartbeat. The thought makes Stiles’ breath catch. 

"You don't want to be here," Derek says, leaning closer. "Go away." There's a threat inside those words.

Stiles fights to keep his eyes open. He sways back, but then catches himself, holds himself steady. "You didn't answer my question."

Derek snaps his teeth together next to Stiles' cheek. "There are clothes for you in the upper drawer. After you've dressed, show yourself out."

Stiles sighs, his heart and stomach sinking, his face falling. He can't hide the sour stench of his disappointment. "Okay. Sorry. I'm going. I'll leave in a--" While moving back, he lets go of the towel, and it falls, leaving him naked in front of Derek. His heart skips a beat, then races on like he's been running scared for miles. 

Derek stays still, but his eyes bore into Stiles. They turn bright blue. 

"I'm... Fuck! Embarrassing... Shit, fuck." He turns around, trying to hide from Derek's stare, but it's a mistake because he's turned his back on a beast. Derek is on him before he can take one step. He's pushed against the chest of drawers, his legs are spread, and Derek is between his thighs, biting and licking his neck. It's so fast, so forceful, Stiles forgets to even think for a second, his mind nothing but _god, yeah, please_. 

Derek growls, tearing himself off Stiles, taking a few steps back, creating distance between them. 

Stiles turns around, breathing unsteadily. "You want me." It's a question and then not. He knows. He's known since they found Derek. He's been welcome here. He's always welcome around Derek. 

He isn't even embarrassed about his hard dick. He wants Derek to see it. 

"Cover yourself." Derek tries to make it a command, but it's a plea. He sounds like he's hurting. 

"No." Stiles leans against the chest with his forearms. "Come and get me."

Derek lets out an involuntary sound, a whine. Then he takes one step closer to Stiles and stops. 

"Why not? What's stopping you?" Stiles tilts his head to the side, baring his neck. 

Derek frowns. "It won't work. I can't..."

"Please, Derek. I'm not looking for a forever. Just... give me something." Stiles thrusts his hips forward. "Please."

Derek moves like a tidal wave, crushing against Stiles, kissing him, licking his mouth open and filling him with his tongue. Stiles moans against Derek's lips, Derek's body heat overwhelming him. Stiles is full of bravado, but now that he has Derek against him, spreading his legs, Stiles trembles, his eyes closing. He clings to Derek, kissing back the best he can, rubbing his cock against Derek's through his sweatpants. 

"Fuck... please..." Stiles breathes out as Derek takes Stiles' head between his hands and bites Stiles' throat. Derek's thumbs are under his chin, pushing his head back, forcing it into an odd angle. 

"Stiles," Derek growls, licking the skin he just bit. "I want to eat you, taste you, fuck you."

"Yeah... okay. Anything. Please." He's incoherent, unsteady on his feet, and then Derek lifts him up and carries him to the bed. Stiles lands on his stomach, and before he can think of what he's doing, he spreads his legs as wide as he can, his ass up. 

Derek curses, and Stiles can feel him move closer, his warmth following. Then there's a tongue against Stiles' hole, and it's too much for him to keep the cry in. He fists the sheets, his back rigid, and there's nothing he can do but take it. Derek licks him, kisses him, makes him wet, makes him beg, and he can't think of anything but Derek filling him, coming inside him. 

There's a deep breath behind him, then another kiss and lick. Derek's tongue is wide when he slides it over Stiles’ hole. This perfect torture feels like it lasts forever, Derek’s enthusiasm leaving Stiles a wanton mess. He's so ready when Derek lines himself up and slowly pushes past the rim, his cock wet with lube. It hurts and feels amazing, and Stiles can't decide if he wants to get away or take more. He whines, then bites his own arm because Derek is too big and it's uncomfortable, weird, unfamiliar. 

Derek leans over Stiles, kisses his shoulder blade, and whispers, "You're doing good. Gorgeous. Taking me so well."

Stupid pride swells in Stiles' chest, and he relaxes more, which lets Derek slide in entirely. He's so full, it's mind blowing. Then Derek pulls his hips back ever so slightly and thrusts in, rubbing against Stiles' prostate. It makes Stiles’ toes curl, and he pulls at the sheet, bites the pillow, mewling into it. 

"Good?" Derek asks, laughing softly in Stiles' ear, and Stiles groans because Derek thrusts in again, but this time it's harsher, quicker, somehow more dominant. Like Derek is still the Alpha, like he's in control and demanding. Stiles gladly gives him that because Derek is doing it perfectly. Every time Derek slides in, he takes Stiles to greater heights, pushing him closer and closer to an edge that seems so fucking perfect. He cries out when he comes, breathing and breathing and breathing, trying to remember every little detail. 

Derek fucks into him three more times, then rubs his cheek against Stiles' back, coming, filling Stiles with his come. 

It's scent marking, the way Derek doesn't stop rubbing against Stiles. He makes tiny noises, still inside Stiles, holding him close, cocooned. 

"I... God, you're good," Stiles mutters against the pillow. 

"More later?" Derek asks, biting the back of Stiles' neck. 

He would do anything to have this again, to have Derek like this. "Yes, please."

Derek moves a little, and Stiles feels come sliding out of his hole. He’s blushing, he knows it, but then Derek says, "You smell so good." and Stiles grins. Derek sounds like he's high. He doesn't pull out.

"You're kind of heavy," Stiles says after a while, but Derek just bites him again, smiling against his skin. 

It feels good to have Derek smiling, and it’s even better because it’s Stiles’ fault. He’s made Derek happy, however brief it is. 

“Good night, Derek,” he whispers, and Derek slides to Stiles’ side, slipping out of him. He leaves his arm and leg over Stiles’ sweaty body and whispers back, “Thank you for being stubborn.”

Stiles has no idea how everything is going to work out, but he knows Derek is fiercely loyal. This might not just be Stiles getting to have fun in lots of different ways and lots of different positions.

This might be a long term deal.


End file.
